


Fractured

by lorannah



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorannah/pseuds/lorannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the Ianto-centric scenes in Fragments from his perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quickly written, barely edited babble of a fic inspired by the fact that I loved this episode so much that I felt like I would burst. This was the result. Apologies for the poor quality.

Ianto breathed deeply. He felt sick.

It had taken over an hour for him to get ready. He’d tried on what felt like five hundred different outfits trying to find the right one and he was almost entirely sure he’d got it completely wrong anyway.

He felt uncomfortable, he’d been trying for sexy but as Lisa said, he was useless at that sort of thing. He had a worrying feeling he’d ended up looking more like a low quality rent boy. The jeans were definitely too tight.

“Alright mate?” The voice was low and inviting. Ianto’s head snapped round quickly. A man was leaning, one handed, against the wall next to him, his eyes travelled across the line of Ianto’s body, tracing its shape.

“No,” Ianto said sharply and altogether too quickly, his mind going suddenly numb.

“Alright, no need to be rude.” The man stalked angrily away, leaving Ianto in a moment of despair.

This confirmed it. He definitely looked like a rent boy; he was stood at night in a park looking like a rent boy. This was probably not the best way to impress a potential boss.

Although from everything he’d heard about Jack Harkness…

The thought was interrupted by the sudden sight of his quarry in the distance, running. No wait, fighting. He had a moment of crippling indecision. He’d never been a field agent, he’d read about weevils… but that was just books.

He pulled himself together. This was for Lisa. Plus this was the best he could have hoped for – he could rush in save the day, show his skills and his knowledge and he’d be offered a job. At least that was how this was supposed to go in the one small, hopeful part of his brain.

The fight itself didn’t go so well, the best he could say was that he’d managed to distract the bloody thing without getting hurt. But for a moment the conversation seemed to be going well.

Then he mentioned the weevil. It was supposed to be the golden ticket – the way in.  Instead Jack turned suddenly cold.

“By the way, love your coat,” Ianto shouted after the retreating figure in desperation and cringed inwardly. He’d never been good at chat up lines. They always felt too false.

* * * * *

The next day, he decided to try honesty. At least as far as he could be. He purposely wore his favourite clothes and then as an afterthought made a thermos of coffee. Lisa had always loved his coffee.

As Jack drank it, he thought for a moment the trick had worked and then in keeping with his new honest approach he told him what he wanted.

The rebuttal wasn’t a huge surprise but hearing a list of his faults reeled off – his life compressed into a few glib sentences – was almost crippling. Only a few scattered words got through to him.

“Not exceptional… conviction… drifter.” He barely even registered what he was saying as he corrected Jack about Lisa, although later he would worry and obsess over it, that terrible acceptance of defeat.

He was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of how he must have looked to this man. Gods, he was still wearing the sort of clothes he’d worn when he was seventeen. He must seem ridiculous.

He knew he was begging for the work, laying himself open but he was still shaken. Unbidden thoughts of CanaryWharf seeped into the conversation and he reached out to stop the man, pressing his hand against his chest until Jack forcibly removed it.

Ianto only just pulled himself together in time to watch Jack Harkness walking away from him again.

“I really like that coat,” he tried for a second time and might have imagined a slight hesitation.

* * * * *

Finding the pterodactyl had been a godsend, a Torchwood inspired technical godsend – but a miracle none the less. He had one more chance to impress Jack Harkness. And he was going to impress him – professional, competent, the sort of person he’d want on his team. He’d forget about the flirting, that had been a complete failure anyway.

He’d even dressed in one of his Torchwood suits. Not the one that he’d been wearing that day. That had been… It had… There’d been damage… Instead he’d picked one that Yvonne had liked on the few occasions they’d crossed paths.

The first two cars he stopped weren’t the right people and it was a relief when Jack finally stepped out of a black SUV, at least it was until he started ranting at him. Ianto had a fleeting moment of annoyance at the man’s cockiness and then bit down on it firmly.

“You’re not going to help me catch this pterodactyl then?” He asked when there was finally a pause in the conversation, not quite able to keep an edge of annoyance from his voice.

Despite feeling mostly out of his depth, it was easier once they were working together to pretend that things were alright. Jack was different, relaxed and friendly and Ianto could snipe at him and make jokes in return – he might even have been flirting.

He even laughed in relief as the pterodactyl collapsed, just missing them. A full hearted laugh. It was the first time he’d laughed since… since everything.

That realisation stilled him, the memory of Lisa, and he lay silent for a moment on top of the man he’d been stalking all week.

Their mouths were almost touching and their noses knocked together for a second. Jack’s warm breath tickled his cheek and he realised, suddenly, how attractive the man was. This was the closest he’d been to anyone physically in months. The hand on his arm was warm and comforting and he felt protected for a moment.

He’d never needed protecting before.

“I should go,” he said quickly climbing to his feet, he’d taken this too far already.

He paused as Jack called to him, not daring to look back. His stomach was twisting, he felt guilty and confused and broken.

This wasn’t who he was supposed to be.

He couldn’t even nod as Jack told him to report for work the next morning.

“Like the suit by the way.”

* * * * *

He chose another suit the next morning, not exactly sure why, trying to ignore the sneaking sensation that he was trying to impress his boss. By the time he’d finished examining himself in the mirror he’d even managed to convince himself that it was all to help Lisa.

If he could distract Jack, just long enough to get her into the building… He squashed down the feelings of guilt. This wouldn’t really hurt anyone. It was harmless.

Jack was already waiting for him when he arrived. He looked him up and down and grinned.

“Nice suit.”

“I was wondering what my duties would be, Sir?” He asked, not sure of what else to say.

“Well going by the list you gave me last night – there’s reception, building maintenance, food and drink, dry cleaning and butlering. Is that even a word? Anyway, they seem to be good places to start. Should keep you busy.”

“Right,” Ianto’s heart sank slightly but he swore to himself that he’d do the work well. He’d remake himself. Perfect himself. Be what this man wanted. It was the least he could do.

“Of course you also said that you’d work for free but I guess I shouldn’t hold you to that,” Jack’s voice was teasing and Ianto smiled nervously in return. Feeling purpose and determination fill him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> My policy on permissions for use of my work is that you don't in fact need my permission to make art, record podfic, remix, critique, translate, save, share or otherwise reuse and interact with anything I've done. I'd love it if you'd share a link with me when you're done.
> 
> Any comments are also welcome – I'd love to hear what worked for you and (truly) what didn't or about those really obvious typos that my mind can't see anymore. If you don't want to comment publicly, feel free to e-mail me. Everything and anything will be loved and cherished.


End file.
